Muse

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There is a place beyond home

Beyond the valleys

Beyond the pines

Beyond the rushing streams of rivers and seas

Beyond, the cloud filled skies.

There is a place that haunts my memories

Rips me from reality

With daydreams of where I should be

A simple place.

Yet as simple as it may be

There was perfection in its beauty

Exceeding expectations 

Belittling my wildest imagination

Curbing my enthusiasm

Yet teased my appetition

I reminisce

Of my many chances at repetition

Of my many offers

To be there

To stay there

Prospects I squandered callously

Unaware of this regret I’d faced eventually

Oh if only the hands of time

Should somehow permit

Allowing my then to become my now

I promise these choices would not recommit.

Or somehow I could defy the test of time

Go back to the beginning when this place was mine

Prove for my sake it doesn’t exist

And remain forever at this place I long to revisit

Yet as I lay here

These memories dare not cease

I think of that place

I long for its peace

This place my senses know to be true

This place I long for is right beside you.

Olsfred James 2013©

 

 

Retribution

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 Black stallion straddling

Complexion to match

He rode into the country

Only a gun and the clothes on his back

Eyes glaring as the town’s people stared

But a gaze from this stranger

Negated any contest they dared.

A question to the shoe maker

He signaled to the saloon

Head straight; eyes fixed

As he steadily rode on

Undertaker opens shop

Preparing for the coming graves

Preacher man clasps his bible

Begins to say his prayers

Reaching his destination

He leaves his horse untied

Made his way through the doors

Seemingly hurt, his limp implied.

The unknown figure enters

Casting a robust shadow of gloom

The bandsmen in turn stop playing

Sensing tension in the room

Without warning or reason a shot fires

Through the eye of a man at the poker table’s chair

Patrons scatter; Women screamed

As the stranger gives chase to another up the stair

Caught between the corridor

He is tossed through the window

Impaled by the shattered glass

And the wooden gateway below.

While the stranger exits

Straddling off into the sunset from whence he came

Impervious by his actions

Retribution was his name.

Olsfred James 2013©